Issana awoke to a pounding headache. Her mouth felt dry as sawdust as she slowly edged towards the bars. "Please," she said, her voice hoarse, "is anyone out there? Could I have some water?"

From the stairs Issana heard the clink of mail as a guard entered the jail. He pulled a ring of keys off his belt and opened her door. "Get it yourself, thief. Your sentence is up." He grabbed her roughly by the dress and hauled her back up the steps. With his free hand he opened the door to the town and tossed her out.

Issana hit the ground hard and the impact sent a flash of pain through her throbbing head. The light was blinding after a day in the dim prison, forcing her to shield her eyes with her hands.

"Clear off!" the guard called after her. "And don't let us catch you stealing anything again!"

Issana pressed one hand to her head in an effort to stop the pounding, but it did little. She staggered like a drunk out of the keep's gateway, back into Riften's dirty streets.

Water. I need water. She steadied herself on a grimy wall. If she headed to the marketplace, she could get some water out of the canals. She stepped away from the wall and headed into the town.

The market was busy again, full of people taking advantage of the fleeting good weather. Issana stepped cautiously out from the shadow of an alleyway and looked around for a way down to the canals. It was hard to tell amidst the throng of people. At last she spied the wooden railing of a staircase that led off of the market's central island, down towards the water below. She made for it, ducking around fancily dressed shoppers.

The stairs were clear of people, so Issana reached the bottom without trouble. The canal ran in a big circle around the central island, and beside it a stone walkway jutted out from the wall. A few beggars glanced up at her from the ground. One spat into the canal. "Whatcha want down here, girl?"

"I need water."

The beggars guffawed loudly. "Well, don't be drinking outta the canal," said one. "'Less you don't mind the piss o' the rich mixed in."

Issana grimaced with distaste. "Ugh. Where do you get water?"

"The lake, outside the city gates." The beggar brushed matted hair out of his face and spat into the water again.

Issana glanced past them at a wooden door set in the wall. "What's through there?"

The beggar looked confused and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh. I wouldn't be going in there if I were you, lady. The Ratway's not a place for little girls."

"Why? What's inside?"

The beggar shrugged. "Thieves. Skooma addicts. People who'd cut your throat for a single coin."

Issana sat down on the rickety steps. "Why are you down here, then?"

The beggar flicked a pebble into the canal. "'Cause we got chased away from up there. Get used to it, kid. No one wants us around."

Issana rested her chin in her hands. "I know what you mean."

"Take my advice," said the beggar. "Keep your head down and stay outta trouble. Too many people gettin' killed in their sleep lately."

"I'll be careful."

The man shrugged. "Hey, no need to convince me. Just givin' you a tip."

Issana stood up. "Thank you." She turned and started climbing back up the stairs. Halfway up she called back, "How do I get to the gate?"

The beggar glanced up at her and pointed. "Across the market and follow the main road. It's not far."

As Issana reached ground level, the wave of noise she'd left behind washed over her again. Merchants were shouting, shoppers were haggling, and it seemed that just about everyone had something to yell about. Issana stepped carefully through the crowd, weaving left and right to avoid being knocked over. It was like nothing she'd ever seen.

Finally the crowd thinned, until there were only maybe a dozen people in her way, all crowding around a stand covered with bottles of various shapes and colours. A red-headed, middle-aged man held a green bottle out to the onlookers, waving it enthusiastically. "Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen. Essence of Spriggan! It'll make your hair grow back as fast as the grass in spring! Only fifteen Septims!"

In front of Issana, a burly farmer leaned towards a woman. "Another one of Brynjolf's miracle potions. How stupid does he think we are?"

A fat, bald man stepped forward towards the merchant. "I'll take some." He held out a pouch of coins.

The farmer snorted and turned to leave. The crowd began to disperse and Issana quickly made her way out of the marketplace.

"Running a little light in the pockets, lass?"

Issana turned around and saw the red-haired merchant smiling at her.

Issana glanced down at the ground. "You could say that."

The man grabbed a loaf of bread and a bottle of ale from his stand and held it out to her. "Here."

Issana's stomach twisted painfully. She took one step forward, then another, stopping just out of arm's reach. The man beckoned her with the loaf. "I'm not going to hurt you, lass. My name is Brynjolf. I know what it's like to be in your shoes." He glanced down at her bare feet. "Or lack of them."

"What do you want?" Issana grabbed the bread from him and darted out of reach again. She took a huge bite of the bread. It was stale, but in her half-starved state it was like the finest feast any jarl had ever tasted. She tore into it ravenously, then grabbed the ale and downed it in seconds.

"As it happens, I've got a little errand to perform," said Brynjolf. "But I could use an extra pair of hands. And in my line of work, extra hands are well paid."

Issana stopped eating and eyed Brynjolf warily. "What sort of errand?"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty head there, lass. It's nothing dangerous. Simple, really. All you have to do is steal something. Something expensive-"

Issana choked on the bread and spat it out. "Seriously? I'm out of jail for less than an hour and you're asking me to steal for you?" Several people turned their heads towards her in surprise. She glanced away quickly.

Brynjolf raised his hands defensively and waited until people had stopped staring. "Sorry, lass. I usually have a better eye for these things." He stepped back behind his stand.

Issana hesitated. "How 'well-paid' do you mean?"

A triumphant smile spread across Brynjolf's face as he turned back to face her. "Depends how well you pull it off. And believe me, once you've got a taste for it, there's plenty more."

Issana took another bite of bread. "Suppose I was interested. What would I be expected to steal?"

"Something expensive. The argonian on the north-western edge of the market, Madesi, has some very fine jewelry just waiting to be grabbed."

Issana scowled at him. "So once I have something, I just give it to you?"

Brynjolf shook his head. "No. Did you see Brand-Shei across the market? The dark elf selling goods from Morrowind? Put the ring in his pocket without being noticed."

"Why?"

"Let's just say that there's someone who wants to see him put out of business. Permanently. Just so he remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren't his own."

"So I get paid, but Brand-Shei ends up in jail?"

Brynjolf shrugged. "That's the way it works around here, lass. Better him than you, isn't it? Don't you want to eat?"

Issana felt her stomach growl again, but she frowned. "If I could steal it myself, why bother listening to you? Why not just sell it?"

"What do you think the guards would do if they saw a girl like you selling jewelry?"

Issana was quiet for a long while. "All right," she said at last. "I'll do it."

Brynjolf smiled. "Good lass. Don't get caught."

Issana strode back into the crowd and made her way across the market. It didn't take long to spot the argonian; she recognized him from the day before. There were three or four people standing at the stall, admiring the jewelry. Issana didn't give herself time to think twice. She marched quickly towards the stand and, once she was only a few feet behind the patrons, tripped and went sprawling. Her outstretched arms knocked one of the onlookers straight into the stand and sent fine jewelry scattering onto the ground. Issana lay there, feigning a daze as the argonian scrambled around in a panic to recover his goods.

She rolled off her hapless target and started apologizing profusely. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry! By the Divines, how could I have been so clumsy?" She sprang forwards to help, picking up a necklace set with a bright green gem and handing it to the argonian, who grabbed it from her. "Please, I can do this myself."

"No, no," said Issana. "I insist." She grabbed a handful of rings and dropped them into his outstretched hand, save one. She slipped it into her sleeve.

"Please, just let me do it," said the argonian. He brushed her away with a scaled hand.

The man she had knocked over picked himself up and shoved Issana aside with a knee. "You heard him. Away with you, girl."

Issana stood up and looked as embarrassed as she possibly could. "I am so, so sorry. Please, I-"

"Off with you!" the man repeated, waving her away.

Issana didn't hesitate and slipped into the crowd.

The dark elf wasn't very hard to find either. He was leaning on his stall, too busy waving his wares at passers-by to notice Issana coming up behind him. As a woman stopped to look at his goods Issana walked past him and casually dropped the ring into his pocket. Brand-Shei glanced at her irritably as if wondering why she was so close, but he said nothing as Issana faded away into the crowd.

Brynjolf looked impressed when she returned to him. "Well done, lass. My lads already told me what happened. Looks like I chose the right person for the job."

Issana looked down at the ground. "It was… kind of fun, actually."

Brynjolf gave her a roguish smile. "You've got no idea yet, lass. Here you go." He tossed a pouch of coins to her. Her arm dropped from the weight as she caught it. "There's more where that came from," he added. "If you think you can handle it."

Issana hesitated for a moment. Any stealing at the orphanage had always resulted in the offender being beaten and going without supper. To have succeeded-and to be rewarded-it was liberating. "I'm in."

"You can find us in the Ratway, in a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece and we'll see if you've really got what it takes."

Issana nodded resolutely. "I'll be there."

"I hope so," said Brynjolf. "You've got quite the future ahead of you."